Where It All Started
by Pakmai
Summary: How Q got recruited into MI6, how he really met a certain blue eyed agent for the first time, and why he decided to swear off agents forever. One-shot, Ben Whishaw Q/Daniel Craig Bond. Warning for slight language.
**Just something I thought up while I was watching London Spy with Ben Whishaw. It was quite perfect, but of course I twisted the idea to my own designs. :) I hope you all enjoy this! Warning for slight language.**

 **NOTE: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, James Bond, or any characters affiliated with them. I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun. ;)**

 **Comments & Reviews welcome!**

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Sometimes you meet someone and you just click. The two of you get along and it's like you've always known eachother. One thing leads to another and then you end up in a relationship, even if you might not actually know the person very well yet.

That is the situation that Sherrinford – Ford – Holmes found himself in. He met a man at a club and they just got on, having a connection he'd never felt with anyone before. Not being chaste in any sense of the word, Ford had been with quite a few men, but nothing ever felt like this. There was just one problem as far as he was concerned. That problem was the fact his boyfriend kept having to leave for his job. The call would come and he would go, sometimes for weeks on end. Sometimes he would call Ford from wherever he was, but most of the time he just said he wasn't allowed to talk about his work, though he claimed to work in security.

Ford had always been good with computers, and before the party scenes and the drugs had distracted him, he was a fair to decent hacker. After months of secrecy, injuries he couldn't or wouldn't talk about and finally the smell of someone else's perfume on his shirt when he tried to sneak into bed one night, Q decided it was time he take up the mantle of hacker again.

Starting with his boyfriend's laptop which was carelessly left out when he went for a run, Ford started to dig. When he found out what he needed to know from Ford's laptop, he returned to his own, barely registering it when his boyfriend got a phone call and had to leave again with nothing but a peck on the cheek.

It was a week before he was able to untangle decryptions and slip through firewalls to at least know his boyfriend's work had something to do with MI6. And after that, he know where and how to attack, actually being somewhat disappointed by the time he slipped into the agency's systems. For a super secretive spy agency, they had surprisingly lax security.

Once inside, Ford was only after one thing, and he found the files of the agents, brushing over the double-oh files since he didn't know what they were and they had a sightly heavier encryption which he wasn't interested in breaking if he didn't have to. As it turns out, he didn't have to, finding the file he was looking for fairly easily.

The mission report, Ford found, were so in depth that they read almost like novels, detailing almost everything his boyfriend, Stuart, did when he was on a mission. Up to and including _who_ he did during the missions, which just caused his blood to boil. Apparently he was not a careful hiding his tracks as he thought however, because he was barely halfway through the file before men in black combat gear burst into his apartment to cuff him, confiscate his laptop, and start driving him toward the MI6 building, no matter how much he objected.

It wasn't until he got to the building that his head was covered with a black bag, to keep him from seeing anything that was classified, he imagined. It also made him stumble through a few corridors and up an elevator that took forever. When he was finally sat down in a chair and the hood removed, he had to blink a few times, turning his head to nudge his glasses into place with his shoulder. Finally, Ford turned his attention to the sole occupant of the room, a woman of short stature but commanding presence who watched him with a pursed-lip look of displeasure.

"Sherringford Holmes." She started, looking at him. "You can call me M. I am the head of MI6." She says flatly as she watches the much younger man before her. "You know, when Stuart first told me he had a boyfriend, I told him to be careful, some people didn't take lies very well." She observes, then she sighs a little. "When my son told me his boyfriend was a brilliant hacker, I told him to be careful. At least he didn't lie to me about your skills."

"Ex." Ford replies with perhaps a slightly petulant tone to his voice, but he is somewhat scared and very angry right at this moment.

Startled that he talked back, M looks back over at Ford from wheres he was walking around her desk. "Pardon me?" She asked in a confused tone.

"Ex boyfriend, ma'am. If you or he think there is any bloody way I would keep dating him after finding out how deep his lies go and finding out how many people he fucks behind my back on these bloody missions?" He demands, voice getting a little louder as he glares at the woman in front of him. "Apparently he has no trouble charming anyone. Let him find another warm body to warm his bloody bed, the wanker." He growls slightly, never having remembered being this angry before in his life. He pulls and flexes against the handcuffs, but between his lean body and the metal holding his wrists together, they do nothing more than bite into his skin some.

A small smile crosses M's face and she nods a little. "I see. Good for you." She says before she adds, "Might I ask now how you got in past our security?" She asks as she settles in her chair and opens a folder, picking up a pen as if she's going to take notes.

"It wasn't very hard. I was a bit surprised. Sure, it would be good against a strong frontal attack, but if you just slip off to the side, there are plenty of back doors to slip in." The young brunette explains, knee bouncing almost uncontrollably in his emotional state.

Jotting down a few things thoughtfully, M glances up at Ford a if evaluating him. "Given proper resources, could you make it stronger?"

Thinking about what he would need, where he was, and such things, Ford finally nodded. "Yeah. I could make loads of improvement if I was given the right computers and servers." Pausing for a few moments to look at this woman, his ex boyfriend's mother in fact, he decides to continue. "Are you offering me a job?" There is a certain amount of disbelief in his tone, since this is not how he saw this meeting going.

For a few moments M is silent as she watches Ford and then she nods slowly. "It appears I am. We need someone like you in Q-branch. Your first project will be to fix our security and firewall problems. I think someone like you could go far at MI6. Just make sure to keep everything to yourself. We'll provide you with a secure flat, assuming you want to move away from my son's. If you don't have any furniture, we'll even give you a budget, and I do hope you know how to dress a bit more professionally." She says as she looks at his t-shirt and jeans for a moment.

"In my defense, ma'am, I was at home relaxing. I know how to dress for a job." Ford objects, then he takes a deep breath and nods. "I will accept the job, but I'd like your guarantee you won't let my eldest brother interfere once he finds out. Which he will." He says with a small frown and a frustrated sigh.

M smiles slightly for a moment, though her eyes show a mischievous glint. "Don't worry. Mycroft may have quite a bit of power, but not over MI6. He won't know anything I don't tell him. I run a tight ship here, I promise you no one on these premises works for him. Or I will have to deal with them quite severely." She lifts a hand and motions, a guard-type coming in. "Please remove Mr. Holmes' handcuffs and bring him down to HR, standard recruitment package, he'll need a flat and movers as well." She says as she writes something out on a card, then closes it and holds it out.

Stepping forward the guard takes the card and nods, "Ma'am." He says before removing the handcuffs, not seeming to have any feelings about it either way, just doing what he's told. "This way, sir." he says to Ford, motioning toward the door.

Rubbing his wrists a little, Ford gets up and turns a little, a little bit dazed by everything that is happening. But the voice of M calls him back for a moment, "Oh, and Mr. Holmes?" She asks as she looks at him.

"Yes?" Ford asks as he stops in his steps and turns to look at her.

"I could see you becoming our next Q someday if you apply yourself. I do hope you won't disappoint." M says before returning back to her work, adjusting glasses on her nose as she signs off on some paperwork.

~oOo~

The move was painful, but he did not allow Stuart to have anything that had once been his. No matter how it had been incorporated into the apartment. There were no soft feelings toward his ex this time. It doesn't mean Ford didn't feel a wave of loneliness as he was moved to the new flat, one of a few that MI6 apparently kept on lease just in case. Once it was determined what he did and did not have, and everything was moved to his flat, he was left with a few approved cataloges to order things from. At least he thought ahead and had already requested a mattress, which was in the bedroom, on a simple metal frame since he had no bedroom furniture of his own.

During this time is when there was a light knock on the door, shocking Q to the core. But he was assured that the building was entirely MI6, so he wouldn't have to worry about his neighbors. Wearily getting up from his one comfortable chair to move over toward the door, he opened it without thinking and barely kept his jaw from dropping.

There, on the other side, was hands down the most attractive man he had ever seen. Shortly cropped blonde hair, icy, intense blue eyes, and a slight smile on his face, the man held up two glasses and a decanter of amber liquid. "Saw you moving in. From the way you looked, thought you might want a drink. I live in the flat just below." He explains, looking casual as can be in a t-shirt that clung to his defined pecs and caressed his washboard abs. Below that were sweatpants that hung off his hips tantalizingly and fell to bare feet.

Snapping his eyes back up to the handsome face, Ford considers for a few moments before he shrugs and motions. "Come in. Yes, I could use a drink. Several bloody drinks in fact." He mutters, before he looks around his sad apartment. "Afraid I don't really have anywhere to sit, except at the kitchen counter." He points to the bar separating the kitchen from the livingroom which had two four stools sitting at it.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your old flat?" The slightly older man asked, not giving his name and frankly Ford was alright with that, since he didn't feel like explaining his name anyway. Instead, he just poured some of the liquid into the two glasses and slid one over toward him.

After a brief sniff at the liquid, Ford took a large drink and winced a little at the burn after he swallowed, clearing his throat and sitting down a stool away from the other man, to better admire him, before taking a moment to stare into the amber liquid. "Bad breakup, new job." He says simply with a little shrug. "As you can see, I didn't come away with much."

"Welcome to the company then." The blond man replied, lifting his glass in a silent toast before he sipped it, refilling Ford's glass when it became empty on the next drink. "Afraid I can't give you much relationship advice. Never been good at it myself." He shrugs slightly, the shirt drawing snug across his shoulders for a moment, and Ford was beginning to think he had worn that shirt on purpose. But no, if he saw Ford moving in he already knew he was male, with his contacts in and his hair all fluffed up and away from his face.

"I don't need a relationship, I need work. And that is what I shall do." Ford decided firmly taking another drink of the refilled glass, sighing a little as he looks down at it. "Thank you, though. For the odd welcome. Though I have a feeling you and I will be working in vastly different department." He says as he looks the other man over slowly, admiring him. Just because the man is most likely straight, does not mean he cannot admire the eye candy.

Snorting a little as he sips his own drink which makes it sound sort of hollow as the noise echoes in the glass, the blond nods a little, casting his own critical eye over Ford. "Perhaps. But you never know. I do get around." He says suggestively before he gets up, finishing his liquor and then setting the glass down. "Consider this a housewarming gift. And a memory." He says as he pats the glass before he turns for the door, glancing around the apartment once. "Goodnight." He waves a hand over his shoulder before he lets himself out and presumably returns to his own flat.

Staring after him for a few moments, Ford feels the full-body shudder go through him as he admires the rear that just sauntered out of his flat. Looking over at the glasses, he nods a little. Oh yes, he will most definitely remember this.

~oOo~

It didn't take him long to figure out just who the blonde hunk was once he got to his first days at MI6, and as soon as Ford discovered the identity, he shut down any feelings he might have been forming for the man. He would not make the same mistake twice in lusting after an agent. Bond was rarely at home and with Ford working in the background at Q-Branch ensured that the two never ran across eachother by chance. Not that the agent noticed at least. Whenever he came down for his kit, Ford couldn't help but watch the older man, admiring him from afar while trying to convince his traitorous heart to stop fluttering and pounding madly at the sight of him.

By the time he achieves the status of R, Q's second in command, his demeanor has changed. Closing himself off and modeling his outward attitude after the cool and collected M, Ford let his hair grow out a little and kept using his glasses rather than contacts, keeping himself in proper work attire. When Bond is killed, he mourns in his flat, watching when all of the agent's things are packed up and sent to storage, clutching one of the glasses to his chest.

The explosion that brings 007 back also kills the old Q, advancing Ford from the position of R to that of Q, and then he faces the most difficult task he has ever been given. Being the one to give the double-oh his kit this time around. He doubts the agent will remember him, it's been years.

There is a spark of recognition in those icy eyes however when Bond actually looks closely at Q, and he can't help but smirk a little at the verbal sparring before the man finally acknowledges him with an amused look and a simple, "Q." as he offers his hand.

Taking the hand, Q smirks a little right back at Bond, letting himself admire the older man, the years showing on his face, but that doesn't deter Q's attraction. Instead, he tamps it down like he always does, determined to be professional and instead, as he slides his hand into the agent's, replies with a simple, "007." before quickly going over the kit again, not being able to help the jab about exploding pens, which he saw the old Q make one and personally thought was completely ridiculous.

That's right, he can and will be a professional and will not be swayed by a look from a man who practically makes a profession over charming people. And so it remained, even through helping Bond escape London with M and past the funeral for the woman who gave him the chance.

Q thought it would remain that way until one evening when a knock came at the door to his flat. Surprised since he never gets visitors, he walks over dressed in his comfortable outfit of jeans and a t-shirt, opening the door in a trusting way since the building was still owned by MI6.

On the other side of the door was a certain double-oh, dressed in one of his perfect, striking suits and casually leaning against the door frame. When the door opened, Bond took the opportunity to look Q over slowly, admiring him, then lifting the bottle in his hand. "Glad to see some things never change. Care for a drink?" He asks before giving the Quartermaster a wicked smile. "It's been quite long enough, don't you think?"

Feeling a little breathless, Q nods slowly as he steps back out of the way. "Yes. Quite long enough."


End file.
